


sleepless nights and tiring days with birds and bugs

by YukinaMika



Series: 2020 [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 10 drabbles per chapter, Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/F, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, like a lot of AUs, the title says things about the time I chose to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika
Summary: Drabbles. Robins. Ladybugs.A sort-of companion piece to'late nights and early mornings with bugs and bats'
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Carrie Kelley, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Dick Grayson, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Duke Thomas, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Mia "Maps" Mizoguchi, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Stephanie Brown, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Tim Drake
Series: 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593016
Comments: 43
Kudos: 326





	1. Chapter 1

It is common knowledge that Nightwing splits his time between Blüdhaven and Gotham. And when he was seen in Paris, caught in an intimated embrace with Parisian’s sweetheart, the three cities held their breath.

Ladybug takes great pleasure in watching Parisians trying to catch Nightwing on one of his visits to give him the standard shovel talk. They are very protective of their heroine.

She, however, draws the line when life-endangering stunts to get their attention happen.

The solution? A thank-gods-you-are-alive kiss in front of flashing cameras and EMTs after a drug bust.

“We’re married,” she says.

Hell breaks loose.

* * *

The moment she hears the explosion, her heart stops.

"We got Nightwing," is heard from the com and she gives a whole-body shudder. "He's still breathing but we're heading back to the Cave."

Close. Too close. She could’ve lost him.

There is an urgency in her body as she swings across the rooftop, her work done and warped up for GCPD.

Every second seems precious and every minute passing fills her with a sense of dread. The way back seems forever.

Until it ends and she looks and looks, choking back a sob as reality hits her.

Gods, he's breathing...

* * *

The Nightwing suit has a high collar. And it has proven to be useful plenty of times.

Their private time is tender and loving but it leaves marks.

And really, how could he refuse when she loomed over him, looking down at him with so much love in her eyes. How could he resist when she took him so skillfully, dominating each and every one of his sense and overwhelming him with love.

He wears her gift proudly, like a necklace of love but after the first few times, it has proven to be quite distracting. Especially to newer recruits.

* * *

He is a born-and-bred acrobat. It is in his blood to fly across the air, to spread his arms and embrace the feeling of freedom.

And then he saw how Ladybug sailed through the air, he knew. That she was like him. She was born to fly.

She laughs and laughs as they chase each other through rooftops, eyes dancing in mirth as the wind caresses her hair. She dances through the air as easily as a bird mid-flight.

Breaking apart the chains that dragged her down, she is radiant in her freedom. She flies like she was born to.

* * *

Ladybug raged against them when the Justice League came, knocking on her proverbial door.

It was something they have to come to a compromise. Ladybug wouldn't let Paris being placed under the Justice League's control because it was hers! And the Justice League didn't want to let a hero, a teen still, ran wild without surveillance.

And so Paris became Gotham two-point-oh.

Which is a shame because he really looked forward to knowing who was responsible for the sharp wit behind that mask.

And then he meets a young designer, fumbling and tumbling and -

Fates work in mysterious ways.

* * *

It is discerning to see Dick being so quiet, a hand over his mouth and oh, that simply won't do.

"Little bird," she coos, curling her fingers around that strong wrist. "Sweet songbird."

Perching delicately on this handsome man who holds her heart, she leans down until her lips are millimeters from his, the offending arm pinned to the mattress. The body under her shivers as her other hand toys with his chest and a high-pitched whine slips past those lips.

"Little birdie, red-chested robin," she sings as those blue eyes glazes over with pleasure. "Will you sing for me?"

* * *

"Breath, breath," she murmurs, running a hand down his back in a soothing manner. "It's ok. You're safe here."

Vigilantism comes with its own baggage and night terrors are, unfortunately, included in that. She would know. She had done her time as Ladybug.

"There is nothing to fear, love. You're safe here. I'm here. Always."

The quiet sobs have died down into little hiccups. Under her hand, his body shakes and shakes as if trying to forget the terrors.

"Come back to me, love. Come back."

Her bird looks at her with those vivid blue eyes and her heart breaks.

* * *

Sometimes, people forget that his temper is explosive. They get used to the bright, the sarcasm that they forget.

He knows of the cruelty in his words when tension runs high. He knows of the way he shuts down when emotions are too much.

And when it is just them, without the masks, it is a war. Blow by blow, word by word.

They hurt and hurt until adrenaline bleeds from their veins and the previous calm settles in.

Apologies come in the form of warm bodies curl against each other, tender and loving, soothing bleeding hearts and torn-open egos.

* * *

They called him Boy Wonder on the streets. It was something akin of a nickname, a term of endearment.

He did not know who came up with it or when they coined the term. Maybe it was a wide-eyed child looking at the soaring bird amidst Gotham's night. Maybe it was an officer working under the Commissioner, heaving a sigh of relieve as the tides finally began to turn.

He never really understands how 'Boy Wonder' came to be. Never understands the meaning of the word 'Wonder'.

However, when he meets Ladybug, it is the word that crosses his mind.

* * *

"Creation is attracted to destruction," said Tikki. "It maybe your creativity that led you here."

She, for one, knows that it was not her creativity that brought Nightwing into her room. Bats and birds might be a great source of inspiration but she has literally been in this city for less than a week.

And since she actually possesses a working heart, she bandages him up.

After he wakes up, she might offer him a snack to get his energy up before he goes where he disappears to during the day. And no, she is being reasonable, not worry, Tikki!


	2. Chapter 2

He grew up in the worst part of this hellhole of a city. He saw and experienced the worst of humanity.

His crusade is not approved by the Bats. They think it is too bloody, too cruel.

Marinette, however, believes in it. And when she first told him so, he had to sit down to process the words.

"You don't like killing but you think that it is necessary."

But she lives in the light while he hides in the dark. Then how come?

"The world isn't just black and white, Jay. I've known that for a long, long time."

* * *

The first time he saw Ladybug, the familiar anger settles back in his bones.

A child. They chose a child and dragged her into a war.

She was thirteen when it started. She was still a child when it started.

He died on his fifteenth year. Killed by a madman.

And he was not the first nor was he the last.

They should not have continued sending children to war. They should have stopped.

"I did not ask to be chosen," she shouts, tears streaming down her face.

In her place, he sees a boy in red, yellow and green.

* * *

He has issues with authorities. He knows it.

However, it is easy to bend to her will. To let her words guide his hands. To let her voice wash over him.

"Hold me," she says and he is eager to comply, arms warp around her, pulling them together until skin is on skin, smoldering and heated.

"Kiss me," she orders and he is lost in her warmth, sinking deeper and deeper until he has to come up, drowning for air.

"Be mine," she whispers against his lips and silly little bug, he has been hers for a long, long time.

* * *

Blue wars with green. Beautiful but tragic in every moment of the fight.

When he is calm, his eyes resemble the sea - nurturing and kind. When the Pit hits, hard and fast and ruthless - they are storms - destructive and cruel.

He loves deeply and they sparkle. He rages at the unfairness, well acquainted with poverty, with injustice, and they blaze.

Eyes are the windows to the soul. Jason's eyes are breath-taking but sad.

There is a deep pain that cuts deeper than any blade. There is a shadow darker than the night.

His are those of born and bred Gothamite.

* * *

The hand on her head can break bones as easily as it can warp around the handle of a gun. Fingers calloused from the years of fighting tooth and nail, of struggling just to survive yet still somehow incredibly gentle when they comb through her hair.

"Feeling better yet?"

She hums a silent agreement, nuzzling closer to his chest, basking in the comforting feeling of fingers in her hair. The headache she was suffering through earlier has vanished under those skillful fingers.

"Take better care of yourself, Marigold."

"I make no promises, Jay."

"I'm not kidding, Mari. Next time, I'm staging an intervention."

* * *

He knows he is protective. Marinette gets exasperated when he gets between danger and her.

Sometimes, she complains that he is coddling her. Sometimes, she thanks him when he crushes her in one of the oh-god-you-could-have-died hugs.

He has lost a lot. He is, he admits, clingy to those he considers his.

He clings to Roy, to Kori, to Artemis, to Bizarro. He hovers around Marinette.

There are few people he holds close to his heart. The idea of losing them hurts but his chest feels particularly tight and cold when the thought of Marinette in harm crosses his mind.

* * *

She loves his embrace.

The lax of his arms as they circle around her when she sits in his laps, both basking in the quiet, the peace, the domesticity as he hums some old songs into her hair. The warmth of his skin against hers when they tease each other with playful kisses and wandering limbs.

The tight, tight, hold when he clutches onto her with adrenaline still fresh in his veins on the days where shadows, of the past, of the Bats, of a clown, of Death, stalks his every step.

She lets him hold her, strong and encompassing.

* * *

He holds her like he is holding his heart. Careful and protective.

He handles her like he is handling glass, worrying that one misstep will shatter the whole thing.

It seems ridiculous but she understands. Really, she does.

When one is so intimately acquainted with loss, they either let go easier or they hang on tighter.

Jason has lost a lot. And so, he becomes possessive of those he gains, cradling them in the deepest part of his heart like a dragon guarding a hoard.

And she gets it. Because, just as she is his, he is also her treasure.

* * *

They brand him a murder. They call for his blood.

And she knows that his hands are far from clean. That he knows violence from the core of his bones. That he was born to the shadows and in the shadows he will remain.

But she has never felt more at home in his arms.

The hands that so expertly wield guns are the same ones that cook for her. The low rumble of the voice that makes petty theives wet themselves is the one that greets her every morning, softened with love and care.

Her home is with him.

* * *

Her dream shatters with the pages. Torn to shreds by those who do not care.

Pieces and pieces, litter here and there. Fragments of a dream so bright, so pretty, so undeserving of such brutality.

She sits silently amidst the mess, the aftermath of a series of lies. Drowning, drowning as they pick up the pieces.

And she cries and cries. For her hard work. For her bleeding heart. For her broken trust. And he holds her through it all.

To shatter someone's heart. To stomp on their very soul.

They will pay. Dearly.

Get ready for some lawsuits, suckers.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, she shot up in the last few years and now towers over her fiancé. Tim's always been on the tiny side so she only needed a little boost and voila!

He becomes cuddle-sized and she takes advantage of that. The fact he fits perfectly in her laps is just a lovely bonus.

"I need to finish this," he grumbles even as he leans into her embrace, perching precociously in her laps.

"It's due three months later," she reminds and nuzzles him. "Take a break, bird boy."

He moans and grumbles but she soon finds herself with a sleeping bird.

* * *

Marinette holds the plain, wooden box so close to her heart that he is almost jealous of it.

Looking back, it was a childish thought: he didn't know what were in that box nor did he know of their importance.

But he should have known. Those in this lifestyle of theirs tend to gather together.

And as expected - because relationships never come easily for vigilantes - the girl he likes is a Paris-based heroine.

Then one day, he looks back and realizes that the box is important to him, too.

The answer? Because it's something that Marinette holds dear.

* * *

In their line of work, goodbyes are very common. There's the gruff kind with monosyllables and grunts and there's the kind with hugs and tears.

The farewells are a part of their routine. After all, there's an enormous if hanging over their head every time they go out.

Their goodbyes are soft and quiet. A lingering look, a brush of a finger, a quirk of a smile.

"Be safe," she tells him, hand around his wrist. "I'm here."

It is a promise as he brushes a light kiss on her wrist.

Don't worry. I will return. Wait for me, please.

* * *

This little bird that has found its way to her porch is just like her: a bird without a home to return to, forgotten by those who once held them close.

It's almost a sad twist of the story of the nightingale. The nightingale might return to its Emperor at the end but who knows if either this bird or her could return to theirs.

This little bird has nowhere to go and it's not like she knows where she wants to be.

It can be a recipe for disaster.

... She's keeping the bird if he wants to stay though.

* * *

He's attended dozens of galas and should not worry too much about this one.

However, this is the gala where they'll come out as an official couple. This is where they'll announce their relationship to the world.

The thing is, Marinette is lovely in that dark dress.

He wants to take her away and tuck her away in a place without akuma or the press but tonight is the night. They are going to set some unfavorable rumors straight with a few lawsuits for certain people.

This is a very important gala. He still wants to whisk he away though.

* * *

Both of their uniforms bear shades of red. It is the color of luck, of passion.

However, it is, also, the color of blood.

"Hey," he slurs through the pain medication he must be on. "Nice for you to drop by, Lady Luck."

There are bandages all over his body, the red vibrant on the white background. He looks terrible with a black eye and a split lip.

"Stupid bird," she mutters as if her heart hasn't been squeezing so tight. "You almost scared me to death!"

He, of course, hears her and his lips stretches into a wry grin.

* * *

It is a known fact that he is well- acquainted with the silence, having grown up in a place where quietness reigned.

It used to scare him. He, himself, was a child back then and the large mansion was something akin of a nightmare to a child.

But he lived with it, adapted to it.

And then his life is filled with so much light that the silence becomes something nostalgic. A reminder of the past, proof that they have come so far.

"Were they too loud?" his love asks, smiling.

And suddenly, the silence doesn't seem scary at all.

* * *

His love is a careful lover. Sometimes, he sighs quietly, basking in her care and there are times when he just wants to cry out because she is too careful!

And with his hands fisted into the pristine sheet, eyes watering in frustration as those skillful fingers glide in and out, opening him bit by bit, he is certainly leaning toward the latter.

"Little bird," she sighs indulgently, a hand wrapping around him and coaxes out a little sob of desperation. "You are being so good to me."

It is a game between them and no, he is _not_ losing!

* * *

There is a layer of magic that covers the heroes of Paris. It is no fickle thing and even the best magic users working for the League declines digging deeper.

"That is ancient," Zatanna has said. "No magic users with a sliver of self-preservation would tamper with that."

He knows. He was there when she said that.

The thing is, he loves mysteries. He's also hopeless when it comes to love.

Here he is, pinning after the brilliant-minded girl who wields a yo-yo like a fearsome weapon.

He doesn't even know her name.

Karma, as always, is a cruel mistress.

* * *

He perches on his knees and rests his arms folded on her lap and looks up at her with lidded eyes that light a fire in her veins.

There is something addicting about sky blue eyes staring up at her.

He has always been a picture of perfect control. Calm and collected as either of his personas. A quick-witted and talented vigilante and a gentle but cut-throat businessman.

The sight of him on his knees does things to her.

"If I beg," he drawls, batting those blue eyes. "Will you give me what I want?"

She swallows. _Well-played little songbird._


	4. Chapter 4

The new player in town is a bit of an enigma. She is, without a doubt, on the side of Justice. Ladybug, is what she calls herself, is a brilliant mind that is certainly different from the Bat and his brood. They clearly favor the detective work while this Ladybug focuses on the problem-solving side.

She is great and would be greater if she would stop confusing her so much with these emotions.

"Hello, Spoiler," Ladybug smiles as they run into each other. "You look absolutely lovely today."

She had never thought she swung that way but maybe she does...

* * *

Waffles. They are having waffles for breakfast.

It's not that she hates waffles. Being the daughter of bakers, she loves baked goods but Stephanie simply adores waffles and would have them for every meal if she could.

"We both get three days each, dear," reminds her lover. "Besides, I am craving waffles this week."

"Of course," she sighs and sits down.

Waffles for breakfast for three days might seems daunting but Steph's are simply delicious. Like top-tier waffles that deserve an international award.

Beside, every relationship is about compromise. She can stand eating waffles if it makes her love happy.

* * *

Jealousy is a very unbecoming thing. She is not a teenaged girl who pines from afar. She has a fiancée now. She should not be jealous of her fiancée's friends.

Sure, Tim and Steph had a history but it's not Tim who is engaged with Steph, is it?

Steph laughs when she tells her that.

"You don't need to be jealous," she says with a mischievous grin. "After all, you're the one I'm going home with."

"Stephanie!"

"Come on Mari! You know it's true! Tim's my past but you are my future!"

"Please stop before I bury myself in embarrassment!"

* * *

Gotham City seems so rotten but somehow, Marinette brings a certain sense of refreshment with her when she moved into the city.

She runs a pastel-colored pâtisserie that gives away free food for the kids of Crime Alley and designs clothes on the side.

Red Hood is half-a-step away from claiming it as part of his territory. The only thing holding him back is the fact that she is in a relationship with one of the little birds and he hates getting involved with them.

She just breathes life into everything and without a doubt, the children absolutely adore her.

* * *

She is being shadowed by something purple. The color does blend nicely in the dark but Ladybug is on alert.

She slips into an alley, pressing herself against the wall, which is ew! She would wash later. When she is free from this follower.

The purple thing stops at the mouth of the alley and peers in before gingering enters.

Quick as a viper, she strikes and her stalker pinned to the wall.

"Hello, stranger in the purple cloak. Can I have your name?"

"It's eggplant, not purple!"

"Hello 'eggplant, not purple', I'm Ladybug and I don't appreciate being followed."

* * *

The little bird that stays tucked at her side shivers and she reaches for the blanket.

"Sleep," she murmurs, running fingers through the long locks. 'You are safe here."

This bird of hers is as stubborn as a rock. She falls and falls and stands up again and again. Injures cannot keep her down and it is her determination that keeps her going.

Today, her robin is down, resting from her wounds, whimpering in pain. Tomorrow, she will be soaring once more, confident and strong. And when her love is flying again, she will be there right by her side.

* * *

There is something special in the early morning where they lay side-by-side, legs entwined and bodies curl around each other, separated by a mere blanket.

The proofs of their passionate night litter across the scarred skin and the grayish blue eyes twinkle in the early light. It brings about a soft domesticity that makes her heart flutter. It warms her soul, the way Marinette leans into her, trusting and endearing in her smile.

The sky could fall and aliens could invade but this lovely moment where they just bask in each other's presence will remain as her most cherished memory.

* * *

If she was to compare her love to something, she would choose the sun.

Though her hair is lovely, like threads of sunlight, it's her personality that reminds her of the sun.

There is a certain darkness in Gotham. A shadow that looms over the entire city. It seems to bringing out the worst in people.

Yet somehow, her love shines, so full of life in the city of shadows. She laughs loudly, carefree, and she smiles so tenderly. It's almost like she is a little spark of light in the dark.

The sun in the vast emptiness of space.

* * *

The Bat and birds have too little emotions going on but Marinette is more expressive. She laughs, she cries, no longer bounded by the weight of an entire city on her shoulders.

This time, her sweetheart throws her arms over her shoulders, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she laughs and laughs, so open, so mirthful in her happiness.

The ring, the one that she has spent so much time agonizing over, sparkles on her finger. Brand new and carefully chosen.

"Yes," Marinette sobs into her ears and it is enough to make up for those tears.

* * *

Phone calls, emails and video calls. They are very helpful. Praise technology.

"Hey there," she giggles because Marinette looks so cute in her pyjamas. "How is it over there?"

"A mess," replies the other girl, hand-waving at the scattered books. "I hate exams."

"Maybe you should go to bed and wake up early to study? It might be easier to review in the morning."

"I'm a freaking night owl, Steph. Not a morning bird."

Suddenly, there is an explosion going off in the distant.

"Duty calls," Marinette sighs as she gets up.

"Kick his arse, babe. I got your homework."


	5. Chapter 5

He doesn’t know what he did that resulted in this much food.

Ladybug coming to Titan Tower for a team-up and there are cookies with his names on it. Dupain-Cheng passing by his seat with freshly baked muffins.

Is this some strange ritual in France that somehow he missed in his education?

“Maybe she’s courting you,” Maya Ducard says between sips of tea. “And the food are gifts?”

“I don’t know where you heard that but there’s nothing between us. And if they are, then what?”

“Not yet anyway. You know, if you like her, you could return the favor.”

* * *

Robin’s eyes are green, like leaves in the breeze, swaying yet never leave the branch, like the shade of forests that stretch into the endless horizon.

They are always flitting around as if waiting for attacks, always guarded even when they are off-duty. There are times they soften, just momentarily, and she just loves those little bits and pieces.

“Here,” she smiles and slides him a bag of cookies and watches as his eyes light up like a child before a favorite toy.

And when he hands her the slightly charred muffin, his eyes seemingly contain a smidge of fondness.

* * *

When they were younger, she was taller than Damian. He used to pout so adorably when he sat in her laps and she rested her chin on his head. She used to laugh so much at his little pout.

Then he just shot up overnight or something like that and now towers over her.

His revenge comes in the form of cuddles where she sits in his laps and he rests his chin on her head, just like the good old times, except, you know, reversed positions and all.

She doesn’t know whether she should kiss him or kick him.

* * *

Jonathan Kent talks about the symbol of Superman. He says it symbolizes hope.

He looks at the stubborn girl who fights tooth-and-nails for her city, the quick-witted teenager who laughs without a care, and he sees hope in the red and the black suit that she puts on.

"One day," she says, eyes on the night sky of Paris. "One day, this will end and Parisians can sleep knowing that they are safe from harm."

Hope is beautiful in her eyes and he keeps quiet, wondering if they will be as bright as they are ten years in the future.

* * *

When Ladybug became a reserved member of the Teen Titans there was a Robin in his teenaged years. She left for a bit and returned to find that Robin now going by a new alias and the costume is terrible.

And then there’s a new Robin. A vicious, sword-wielding bird that flies in the red, yellow and green suit.

Let’s just say that the new Robin doesn’t really endear himself to those in the teenaged hero community.

Sure, he is violent but she has seen him petting stray cats when no one’s looking.

There might be some good in him.

* * *

There is something peaceful in the early morning.

She does not usually make it a habit to wake up early – the advantage of being self-employed is the flexible hours. It is because of that rarity that makes it such a treasured part of her memory.

Her fiancé is still burrowing in his part of the bed, face smothered in a pillow and the fact that he’s comfortable enough to sleep in late makes her ridiculously happy.

Her love is always so strict and stressed. A few more moments of rest won’t hurt anyone.

If only moments like this last forever…

* * *

It is a fact that beauty comes with danger. The prettiest are the most dangerous, after all.

And it isn't as if Ladybug is aesthetically unpleasant. She doesn't stand out but no one can deny that she's pleasing to the eyes.

And the less talk about her personality, the better. Somehow, she smiles and there are people cooing over her. She says 'please' and 'thank you' and is so soft-hearted that it's ridiculous.

"Are you sure you don't have the hots for her?" Colin asks.

"She is aesthetically pleasing and too soft-hearted, yes but am I infatuated with her? No!"

* * *

'Prepare for everything' should be their family motto and everyone should subscribe to it as the one time he didn't, he finds himself stuck at the god-forsaken school his father dragged him to.

He is supposed to be undercover and it hasn't been a day yet he is unable to go back to the penthouse because he forgot to pack the umbrella.

What is this even?!

And suddenly, there is one in his face.

"Here," says the girl and basically forces it into his hands. "I have two."

And she dashes away into the rain and wait, she's his target!

* * *

There are times he hates being in a nearly all-male household. Sure, he has a sister in Cassandra but she is often in Hong Kong, faraway from the Manor.

"Again, I don't see the problem here."

Their tentative companionship was an accident. He was undercover and Maps Mizoguchi was one of the more tolerable students at Gotham Academy.

"She did something to me! I can't focus when she's next to me and my heart does things when she smiles!"

"It's called having a crush, Damian and honestly, you don't have to act all secretive."

"Hush! What if someone hears you?!"

* * *

There’s a new student in her class. An exchange student who came from the America.

She doesn’t want to get into anymore drama, even with her class split in the middle when it comes to Lila Rossi but she is class president and it is, more or less, her duty to help him settle in.

There is something familiar about him but she doesn’t know what.

That is, until she comes to Titan Tower to aid the Titans with one of the magical artifacts discoveries and sees Robin that it clicks.

What the heck is Robin doing at her school?!


	6. Chapter 6

There is something about Gotham that most of the crimes happen after dusk. Like, why would they even wait until night to come out?

She, however, is more or less familiar with the flexible hours. Thanks Hawk Moth.

“You know,” Adrien leans over to whisper, “I heard they have Day Patrol.”

“Yes?” and because Adrien looks like he is planning something that would probably end in chaos, “What are you plotting, kitty?”

“Just saying. You and that Signal guy seems to click very well. Maybe you should both go out for coffee.”

“Let me guess. For a pick-me-up?”

Adrien grins.

* * *

He is not, exactly, afraid of the dark.

What he is afraid of is what is in it. What covers itself with that blanket of shadows. What blends into the dark as easily as breathing comes to humans.

"Hello," the bell-liked voice whispers, "I haven't seen you around."

He shivers, turning to face the figure that slowly appears from the shadows.

"I haven't seen you either," he snips back because obviously being under the Bat's banner requires some disregard when facing unknown creeps, "What are you? Catwoman's knock-off?"

"Keep wondering, pretty boy," she winks, "Meanwhile, I'll go make myself scarce."

* * *

Not all those who wander are lost.

He read those words somewhere before. In a time where there was peace rather than the whole clusterfuck that is Gotham right now.

The girl is dressed in red - the color of Robin. And maybe, she is one of theirs.

"Miss" he calls for her attention, "Are you lost?"

She looks at him and smiles, summer sky and sunny days - the kind that Gotham desperately needs; the kind of light that can light up the dimly lit streets and chases away the darkness.

"No," she says, "I have found what I came for."

* * *

This is something that they share: the awkwardness, the feeling of being lost when they are amongst allies.

He’s new at this moonlighting thing – or she should say daylighting since he operates in daylight? – and she, well, the whole thing in Paris was only known after Hawk Moth was unmasked and apprehended.

They are introduced at the same time, really but the Signal is not exactly a Titan operative and Ladybug only runs missions that might end with lives loss. To minimize the damage, one could say.

That’s a shame. She kinda wants to talk to him more.

* * *

"So," Duke draws, plopping down next to her on the bean bag, "I just learned something interesting."

It is not uncommon for her partner to come and tell her new things he learned. It's their own unique way of bonding.

And the trivia does not hurt when you have a villain called the Riddler.

"Apparently, ladybugs are poisonous to small insects and animals."

That came up when Tikki told her facts about ladybugs when she couldn't sleep.

"Should we worry? It's possible that with your size, your poison might be more potent."

She'll explain later but for now, she laughs.

* * *

Rainy days in Gotham are quite common.

There are always nooks and crannies to wait out the rain. Heck, even continuing patrol in the rain isn’t unheard of.

It’s just, there is only him on Day Patrol and it gets a bit lonely without anyone to talk to.

“Didn’t think there’s a Bat working daytime hours,” the girl sharing shelter under the eaves of the coffee shop in the Bowery quips, blue eyes dancing with something like mirth, “Yellow doesn’t blend well in the dark, does it?”

“We’re branching out,” is his dry reply, “Like new investments and the likes.”

* * *

They meet when she was on a school trip.

No, that is not some kind of a plot of some fictions. It happened and her head still hurts when she thinks about how they went from them bumping into each other to going stable, as in “in a relationship”, in a matter of months.

That is almost too good to be true.

“Don’t hesitate,” Kagami’s quiet murmur in her ear, “Life is short and should be lived to the fullest.”

And she takes that advice and when she finds a Gotham-based vigilante into her room, bleeding out…

The world shifts.

* * *

Statistically, masks attract masks and it is not really that weird for people in their community to hook up.

There is Nightwing and his enormous polycule, Red Hood and whatever he shares with the Outlaws. And then there’s Red Robin and his complicated relationship with Spoiler and his own teammates.

There are a whole load of issue waiting to happen when colleagues date.

“You know,” Marinette rolls her eyes and reaches for her cup of coffee, “I’m not exactly a mask. Not anymore. If anything, I’m more of Catwoman’s kid than one of your masks.”

“Mari, please. Don’t jinx it.”

* * *

She arrives on the eve of a war. But to be fair, there is no good time to go to Gotham for vacation.

There’s something brewing under the surface. She cannot say what that exactly is but she can make a hazard guess that it involves the teens running around in red, green and yellow clothes.

She’s always been a law-abiding citizen but when there are teens being pursued by law enforcement for wearing certain colors, well…

“Why helped us?” asks who she assumes is their leader.

She thinks and thinks and the answer is simply.

“I’m doing what’s right.”

* * *

There is an unfamiliar face when he arrives.

“This is Ladybug,” Red Robin introduces, “She helps us on some cases, sometimes.”

“Ladybug?” is his incredulous question, “Not like Ladybird?”

Nightwing, or Grayson, whatever his alias currently is, titters from his own corner. Spoiler huffs out a quiet laugh as she pulls her hood up.

“Well, sunshine,” Ladybug smiles and it is a little bit horrifying, “I’m not really flying under the Bat’s banner.”

“If anything,” Selina sashays toward them and behind her there is a mini cat boy? “She is under mine.”

His mind screech to a halt because what the fuck?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Carrie Kelley!
> 
> Feels like I can only write drabbles and all. Stop writing for a few weeks and this happened.


	7. Chapter 7

Marinette's hands are soft and warmth. Her body is the solid weight that holds her up as she cries and cries.

"He will be fine," her girlfriend murmurs, hands never stopping their petting as she rocks the crying body in her embrace, "He is strong. He will make it."

The rain is pouring outside, grave and sad as they sit together, sobs accompanied by soft coos, tears wiped and heart soothed by warm bodies and whispered encouragements.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she mumbles into Marinette's shoulder, "I should have been faster."

"But you saved him. And that's what's important."

* * *

Their career is essentially flirting with Death.

The threat hangs over her head: mentioned and reminded over and over by the presence of those who should have been here but are not.

"The Cure can bring back the dead," says Ladybug as they enjoy milkshakes on the Eiffel Tower, "It's not impossible."

And she thinks back of the ghosts that haunt Bruce. Of empty corridors and of boys who had worn Robin's colors and given birth to a legend. Of Alfred glancing wistfully at the door of the room nearest to Bruce's, the one she is never allowed to enter.

* * *

Robin shakes in her embrace, a tiny ball warped in the yellow cape, shivering like a drowned rat.

She is so small. Like a tiny little hamster, all vulnerable and scared to death.

Not for the first time, she wonders, as her hand smooths down the rumpled red hair, why a genius would be so cruel.

Dr. Crane could have make something for his name. Something good that aids the people rather than to cultivate fear.

But Gotham is what she is and she is a stranger in this land.

All she can do is sooth her love's frightened heart.

* * *

The red yellow and green blur that appears in Paris is not so unfamiliar.

Everyone knows about the little bird that paved the way for teen heroes. The one little bright spot that inspires hope in the darkest time.

This Robin is not the same as the one whose story is known. For those who has spoken to Robin linked the name to a boy who flips through the air like his namesake.

She looks at Robin and thinks that maybe they are not so different.

That they are just mere sands in the forever struggle of good and evil.

* * *

Gotham is darkness. It is everything bad that has ever existed.

It is still the only place she ever knows. And she cannot imagine leaving this city.

"You need friends your age," Bruce tells her and she can hear the unspoken words, knowing that her mentor sees more than just her in this moment.

"I have civilian friends," is her answer, "And if you mean the vigilante type, the Teen Titans disbanded ages ago."

"I know. Which is why I'm sending you to Paris."

She peers at the screen and sees teens in skin tight suits wielding yoyos and staffs.

* * *

It starts with little kisses, sneaked past their teammates, hidden in the shadows on a nearby rooftop. They are light and playful, soft and warm that ends with both of them blushing to their ears with wide giddy grins.

“It’s cute,” says Tikki, “You’re giving me cavities.”

“Oh hush,” she shushes the little kwamii, cheeks red and hot, “We’re just taking things slow.”

“I know,” Tikki rolls her eyes, “You have told me a thousand times already.”

But not everyone shares Tikki’s thought. They urge her to speed things up, to move from the little playful kisses into something more.

* * *

The name they bear isn't theirs. They are the inheritance that comes with the job.

Ladybug is the mantle bestowed to those who resonate with the little ladybug that holds the power of creation in her little paws. Meanwhile, Robin is the name of dead boys who put on the cape to right the wrongs and fix this damaged city.

There's always something to uphold when they are both Ladybug and Robin.

But when they are together like this, face unmasked and tangled together, sharing warmth and safety?

They are just themselves rather than the mantles passed down to them.

* * *

Carrie Kelley smiles as she slides the ring onto her finger, bright and watery with tears as they topple to the ground in a heap of limbs and laughter.

"Took you long enough," she huffs into her shoulder, voice wet with unrivaled joy, "A month more and I'd have popped the question."

"Oh really?" she purrs, nuzzling Carrie's neck, laughing as the woman in her arms trembles, "How?"

A shove and they lay on the grass, laughing and wrestling until Carrie straddles her waist, grinning on top of her.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

* * *

She has never seen a star.

Gotham is polluted. The sky is always dark, a pitched black color that sucks out any will to live.

There are no stars in Gotham. The best they get is the moon that appears randomly.

But Marinete takes her hand and smiles.

Her eyes are the bluest blue, mesmerizing as mirth shimmer within. They are bright and hopeful - the kind that is sorely lacked in Gotham.

And that is too bad.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is taken and only she has the honor of calling this girl with eyes like stars her one and only partner.

* * *

Robin is the murmur in the dead of the night. She is the song forgotten and relearned, the sudden tears at the realization that safety isn't just a pipe dream.

Robin tastes like Gotham. Bitter smoke and pain and despair on her tongue when they part.

Carrie is the itch under the skin, knowing that something should be done. She is the determination after countless failures, stubbornly thriving when no one cares.

Carrie tastes like clear skies, like the rainbow just over the horizon. The warmth of the sun and the sweetness of hope is what makes her presence known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. I think this is the end. Unless there's another a Robin I forgot about?


	8. Chapter 8

Maps is always fidgeting. Her hands are constantly moving.

She tinkers with some metal scraps. She doodles ineligible lines on her notebook. She toys with some origami pieces that Olive left out.

Her brilliantly strange mind works in the same way: always shifting and turning.

She jumps from one topic to another, as quick as a squirrel, rambling a mile a minute. She connects dots in bizarre ways that no one else can, dishing out absurd theories that half of the times turn out to be right.

Yet Maps hangs on her every word, eyes never straying away from her.

* * *

She is a Gothamite - born and raised and taking pride in this damned city that is scorned by so many. Every child of Gotham knows of the bright bird that follows at the heel of Batman - the light in the dark, the spot of hope in the sea of despair. And like any child, she idolizes the Bat and the Birds.

Yet she stares after Ladybug with a sense of amazement - the old-aged feelings of admiration surging in her chest.

"What do you think of Ladybug?" Batman asks the moment they are alone.

She thinks of the red-and-black and blushes.

* * *

Marinette's eyes are blue - soft baby blues that reminds her of the sunny skies, of the endlessness of the glistening eastern seas. 

Ladybug's eyes are blue - sharp electric blues that reminds her of stormy skies, of sharp and fierce lightning stirking down on rolling waves.

"It's for our protection," Marinette tells her, years later when there are sparkling rings on their finger, "Eyes a shade darker or lighter is the most perfect distraction."

She thinks back on how the world's greatest detectives yanked on their hair in frustration when it came to Ladybug's civilian ID and... snickers.

Perfect distraction, indeed.

* * *

Marinette stares at their surroundings with a curiosity that leaves her shaking with excitement at the newly found kindred spirit.

"Are you sure it is a ghost?" Marinette asks, poking at the dusty books, "In a library?"

"A hidden library," she corrects, flipping throw the pages of a thick, old book, "Underground and rumored to be haunted by the spirits of the old librarians!"

"A haunted library?" Marinette blinks, shifting on her heels with anticipation in her smile, "In Gotham?"

"What?" she snickers, "Are you surprised?"

"Nah," Marinette laughs, "The Only in Gotham tag exists for a reason, you know."

* * *

The mantle of Robin is heavy on her shoulders. The expectations and the inheritance that she has accepted hangs over her head like the sword of Damocles every time she puts on the red-green-yellow costumes.

Legs dangling over the edge, she stares down on the streets below. Beside her, Ladybug hums a quiet tune.

"It is hard sometimes," she says, "The legacy left behind, both yours and mine, are heavy in its weight."

"Will it get easier?" she asks.

Ladybug sighs, lacing their fingers together. In the east, the first light peaks out, reflecting in her blue eyes.

"Who knows..."

* * *

They are both fond of physical affections and never really shy away from PDA.

Their dates are either holding hands and racing through the tunnels underground as the undead chases after them or cuddling in the nest of pillows and blankets in Marinette's room at the dormitory. _It is_ , as Olive said, _so disgustingly sweet_.

Her heart soars every time their skin touches. She feels warm and fluff when Marinette curls closer to her in her sleep. 

In time like these, they are not Robin and Ladybug. They are just two affectionate girlfriends who are addicted to hand-holding and hugs.

* * *

There is nothing such as pretense when it comes to Maps. Everything about her - her laughter, her cries, her rage - all of them comes with a sincerity that is the most rare in this day and age.

There is always a note of triumph in her tone as she cracks open a puzzle. The giddy, almost wild, glint in her eyes is the proof of her passion - freeing and thrilling in its ferity. 

There is the most heart wrenching grief in her wails as Maps mourns the lost of a friend. The haunting grief sets deep in her shaking shoulders.

* * *

She is the new-comer in the caped community. Her team has only been known for a few months at best.

Yet this new Robin is even more so of a wide-eyed newbie.

It is endearing to watch her interact with people who, clearly did not suspect such a ray of sunshine. Which is totally understandable with how the previous Robin acted.

"Hi," Robin waves, popping up with a whisper of her cape and a bright grin, "I heard you can do magic?"

"Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

She chokes back a laugh when those eyes sparkle.

* * *

Maps is capable. She knows that. Everyone and their mother know that.

And yet, she cannot help but feel uneased. She cannot help but worry when Maps has, again, disappeared with her friends. 

Heart thudding in her chest as she redials, panting softly as the phone hums into her ear. 

Oh God, what if something happened? Gotham is never safe and Maps is, sometimes, lost in her heads. What if-

She hits the redials again and waits.

Only when a bright voice reaches her ear does she lets go of the breath she does not know she has been holding.

* * *

Everything about Maps is vibrant. She draws attention with her bright colors and loud voice.

She sings loudly and off-key. She scribbles and doodles all over her notebook.

It is a kind of fearlessness to flaunt one's passion, unrestrained by the fear of being ridiculed.

"Do you think I can ever be Robin?" Maps asks, eyes wide and something like hope shining in them.

She thinks back of the ridiculously sharp wits, of the endearing little quirks and the fire that lights Maps' very smile. 

"Maybe," she says and basks in the warmth as Maps glows like a thousand fireworks.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow the last two chapters are tamer than those before. Might be because I was running out of fume?
> 
> Also, I swear like it's 100 words each drabble but I don't know why the total word count isn't 5000??? I think I'm going to count it by hand.
> 
> P.S: Ok, the total word count is 5000, which is what it should be and also I'm dedicating a whole load of 'screw you' to the half-asleep me for miscounting which resulted in me freaking out.
> 
> P.P.S: Now that I actually have time to think, I'm not forgetting about Carrie and Duke. Carrie is a Robin and Duke is kinda one? I mean he had his run as one with the others 'We Are Robin' club? I'm looking into something like this but with Batgirls so when I'm done with that, I might just add Carrie and Duke too. Probably have to think about where Carrie's part will be (before Tim's or after Duke's)
> 
> P.P.P.S: Finished Carrie's part but decided not to reorder the chapters because that would screw things up. So Duke's before Carrie's because I finished his first.
> 
> P.P.P.P.S: It's 1 a.m where I'm from and I just finished this. Into 2021 series it goes.


End file.
